Page 24
Story: The Ex Factor
My breath turned heavy at the thought, and I quickly redirected my eyes and my mind to the menu before me.
“What would you recommend?” I asked, pretending to sincerely peruse the menu. There was only one authentic Korean restaurant in Plano and like this place, it was always crowded with impossibly long wait times.
“I love their grilled pork ribs and the gamjatang.”
“What’s that?”
“Pork bone soup.”
“Sounds good. Could we get some bibimbap?”
“You’re paying. We can get whatever you want.” He cocked a smile.
“Are you always this sassy? There’s a term in Hindi, haazir jawab.”
“Don’t know much Hindi. Barely know my mother tongue.”
“What’s your mother tongue?
“Telugu. I do speak it. But badly. Keep forgetting words. The closest I can get is Tenglish,” he said with a shrug.
I creased my brows in thought. “If your more dominant language is English, shouldn’t it be Elugu instead of Tenglish? How do portmanteaus usually work?”
“Hell if I knew!” he said, then looked at me with what I knew to be the start of one of the most precious things.
The laughter that emerged from his mouth was the most beautiful sound in the world. It was promptly swallowed up by the crowd around us, but that made it even more special. His laugh was just for me. Only I was privy to its melody, and the world had better feel envious of it.
Infectious as it was, I couldn’t last more than a few seconds before bursting into a squeal myself. It was ridiculous. The joke wasn’t even that funny, and yet here we were, laughing like we had just outdone the best comedians of the world. My eyes rimmed with the kind of happiness I hadn’t felt in a long time. The kind of tears that I really wanted instead of the ones I had ended up with after Sameer.
We only stopped because a server walked to our table with a bottle of fresh, crisp white wine and stem glasses.
“I hope this is okay,” Sujit said as she showed us the bottle. “I took the liberty.”
“It’s perfect,” I approved with a nod.
While the server poured us the wine with impeccable etiquette, I looked around and spotted soju and beer on every other table. A rush of warmth filled my core as I realized Sujit must have made this special request when he called for the table.
A vague memory rustled past me with a silent whisper.It’s the little things.
As the sweet bubbles of the wine danced on my tongue, I watched him push his sexy glasses up the bridge of his nose and gaze at me. “So what’s that term you were talking about? Haaz something?”
Extricating myself from the power of those brilliant eyes, I answered, “Haazir jawab. It means quick-witted, someone who has an instant comeback for everything.”
“So you are fluent in Hindi, then?”
“I understand it completely.” I smiled. “My dad’s family speaks Punjabi. Mom speaks Hindi, and that term has been seared into my brain because, growing up, it used to be my mother’s favorite criticism of me. That I was haazir jawab. Always ready with an answer. And I used to say, guess where I got it from.”
“Mom?”
I nodded. “She’s as smart as they come but didn’t get a chance to fly with the full extent of her wingspan.”
Shit!Had I just shared my family’s private matters with him? I had always regretted that Ma didn’t get to be who she could’ve been, but I had never voiced it so fiercely, so fearlessly before. Not even to Ma.
When I got my eyes to focus on Sujit again, I caught him studying me with intent. He picked up the wine and said, “Judging from your success, your wit certainly seems to have served you well.”
I relaxed in my chair. I was getting more comfortable in his presence, and it unnerved me. I had always been guarded since I started working, and suddenly, I was smiling, laughing uninhibitedly, and sharing my family’s secrets with a person I’d known for a couple of weeks.
When the food arrived, I graciously declared that it had stood up to all the hype that Sujit had built up.
“What would you recommend?” I asked, pretending to sincerely peruse the menu. There was only one authentic Korean restaurant in Plano and like this place, it was always crowded with impossibly long wait times.
“I love their grilled pork ribs and the gamjatang.”
“What’s that?”
“Pork bone soup.”
“Sounds good. Could we get some bibimbap?”
“You’re paying. We can get whatever you want.” He cocked a smile.
“Are you always this sassy? There’s a term in Hindi, haazir jawab.”
“Don’t know much Hindi. Barely know my mother tongue.”
“What’s your mother tongue?
“Telugu. I do speak it. But badly. Keep forgetting words. The closest I can get is Tenglish,” he said with a shrug.
I creased my brows in thought. “If your more dominant language is English, shouldn’t it be Elugu instead of Tenglish? How do portmanteaus usually work?”
“Hell if I knew!” he said, then looked at me with what I knew to be the start of one of the most precious things.
The laughter that emerged from his mouth was the most beautiful sound in the world. It was promptly swallowed up by the crowd around us, but that made it even more special. His laugh was just for me. Only I was privy to its melody, and the world had better feel envious of it.
Infectious as it was, I couldn’t last more than a few seconds before bursting into a squeal myself. It was ridiculous. The joke wasn’t even that funny, and yet here we were, laughing like we had just outdone the best comedians of the world. My eyes rimmed with the kind of happiness I hadn’t felt in a long time. The kind of tears that I really wanted instead of the ones I had ended up with after Sameer.
We only stopped because a server walked to our table with a bottle of fresh, crisp white wine and stem glasses.
“I hope this is okay,” Sujit said as she showed us the bottle. “I took the liberty.”
“It’s perfect,” I approved with a nod.
While the server poured us the wine with impeccable etiquette, I looked around and spotted soju and beer on every other table. A rush of warmth filled my core as I realized Sujit must have made this special request when he called for the table.
A vague memory rustled past me with a silent whisper.It’s the little things.
As the sweet bubbles of the wine danced on my tongue, I watched him push his sexy glasses up the bridge of his nose and gaze at me. “So what’s that term you were talking about? Haaz something?”
Extricating myself from the power of those brilliant eyes, I answered, “Haazir jawab. It means quick-witted, someone who has an instant comeback for everything.”
“So you are fluent in Hindi, then?”
“I understand it completely.” I smiled. “My dad’s family speaks Punjabi. Mom speaks Hindi, and that term has been seared into my brain because, growing up, it used to be my mother’s favorite criticism of me. That I was haazir jawab. Always ready with an answer. And I used to say, guess where I got it from.”
“Mom?”
I nodded. “She’s as smart as they come but didn’t get a chance to fly with the full extent of her wingspan.”
Shit!Had I just shared my family’s private matters with him? I had always regretted that Ma didn’t get to be who she could’ve been, but I had never voiced it so fiercely, so fearlessly before. Not even to Ma.
When I got my eyes to focus on Sujit again, I caught him studying me with intent. He picked up the wine and said, “Judging from your success, your wit certainly seems to have served you well.”
I relaxed in my chair. I was getting more comfortable in his presence, and it unnerved me. I had always been guarded since I started working, and suddenly, I was smiling, laughing uninhibitedly, and sharing my family’s secrets with a person I’d known for a couple of weeks.
When the food arrived, I graciously declared that it had stood up to all the hype that Sujit had built up.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 122
- Page 123
- Page 124
- Page 125
- Page 126
- Page 127
- Page 128
- Page 129
- Page 130
- Page 131
- Page 132
- Page 133
- Page 134
- Page 135
- Page 136
- Page 137
- Page 138
- Page 139